


The Bed

by Straumoy



Series: Power Girl Short Stories [7]
Category: Power Girl (Comics)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Medical Trauma, alternative universe, superhero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 02:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6034675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straumoy/pseuds/Straumoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Superhero is crippled for life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Another reddit writing prompt that I tucked away at the back of my head. I've never been much of a fan of the original Kryptonian power package, it's so overpowered that it butchers all conflict and tension in just about every story. So in my continuous effort to deconstruct and reconstruct Power Girl, I downgraded the shit out of it and even ditched a few of her powers (X-ray vision and freeze breath respectively, they don't make any freaking sense).
> 
> This story is just an experiment in how these downgraded powers work - or rather their limits. I've touched in on it before, in Cause and Effect, but now some more details is brought into light. I considered dumping all of it into this one story, but that would be a massive info dump/exposition speech and those aren't fun. I also get to stitch in Dr. Pieter Anton Cross, a superhero from DC Comics who did the yearly checkups on various superheroes (Power Girl included) thanks to his medical background. He's no superhero here though, just a talented doctor who earned Power Girl's trust many years ago.

The double doors leading into the emergency room boomed open as a team of rescue workers, nurses and doctors flocked around an ambulance stretcher. They'd normally be spitting out information to one another, blood pressure, heart rate, injuries and any other relevant data or status changes. This time around, they were all eerily quiet as they went in head first with both legs blindfolded. No one knew what they were doing, since no one had ever seen Power Girl in such a bad shape before.

Dr. Alinafe stepped up as the team grabbed her body to do one swift move from the stretcher to the table. Over his 12 years as a medical doctor, he'd seen just about everything, though this was both old and new, all wrapped up rather nicely in the same patient. Power Girl, the only known alien lifeform outside planet Earth, was beaten up beyond recognition. If it weren't for the iconic suit, tattered cape and the pale grey, bluish blood, Dr. Alinafe would have assumed it was just another blonde girl that had been pulled out of a car crash.

One of the nurses said, "Doctor, how do we proceed?" prompting him to overcome the initial daze he'd found himself in.

"We're going in people," he said, his voice loud and commanding, "and for now we'll just have to rely on our own wits and skills to save the day."

First step was to get her out of the suit, so scissors made quick progress in that regard and shortly after completing the first step, the team got their first surprise; no bellybutton. A nurse cast Dr. Alinafe a nervous glance, but his own eyes did little to acknowledge it beyond simply shrugging it off. There was a heartbeat as far as they could tell, but no pulse. Or at least no pulse in the place you'd normally find one in a human.

Respiration presented itself as the next problem, with Power Girl jerking on the table as she coughed up half a mouthful of her own blood and saliva. Nurses started poking her skin with needles and to their surprise they went in, although there was a firmer resistance in her flesh compared to a human. The drugs that they put into her started to take their effect and thankfully they didn't have any immediate deteriorating effects on Power Girl's condition.

A good hour and a half in and Dr. Alinafe was not liking what he was seeing, or what he thought he was seeing. His best educated guess was that a couple of Power Girl's organs were failing for one reason or another. Trauma from whatever injury she'd sustained before arriving here or maybe one of the drugs were the wrong type or perhaps it was the dosage? All he had to go on was baseless speculation, vague and poorly educated guesses and far too few facts on the table.

Given how little people knew about what made Power Girl's body tick from a medical perspective, he didn't think any doctor in the world would judge him too hard if he failed to save her life. On the other hand, you had the common public, largely ignorant of the finer workings of their own bodies and all the thousands of people that adored Power Girl, never mind the cultist who saw her as a deity of some sort.

Even with the forgiveness of the scientific community, the public would nail him to the nearest wall with his own bones if he didn't save her life. Going down in history as the man that 'killed' Power Girl wasn't all that appealing, so his rationale was to do whatever he could, however he could to save her life.

"We're going to put her in a coma," he said to the nurses, "nice and easy."

They looked at him and as his words started to sink in, there was a subtle change in their expressions, even if they were behind their breathing masks. Their movements were the same, going for the same equipment as always, but there was this faint hint of hesitation and uncertainty. He had little doubt in his mind that they too felt the pressure of the situation. For better or worse, they were making history.

 

* * *

 

When Power Girl woke up after 10 long days in coma, she was incoherent, uncooperative and hostile to hospital staff. What little the staff could get from her slurred speech was that she had no idea where she was and had no ability whatsoever to track time. It also became apparent that she was suffering nightmarish hallucinations that came and went in waves at irregular intervals, resulting in a violent response from her.

"So this has become somewhat of a catch phrase over the past week," Dr. Alinafe said, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, "but what would you recommend Dr. Cross?"

Dr. Pieter Anton Cross stood by the window, flipping over the latest report from Power Girl's condition. He was the world's only and thus automatically leading authority on Power Girl's physical health. She'd confined to him when he was still a student at Harvard Medical School, shortly after making her debut as a superhero. Ever since then, he had worked on unravelling as much about Power Girl's health as possible over the next 20 years.

"Hard to say, as we're deep into the unknown," he said, closing the file. "The hallucinations are a mix of bad memories and the drugs, no doubt."

"Bad memories?"

"Yes, she's seen just as much as both of us combined; torn and twisted bodies from car crashes, earthquakes... first, second and third degree burns in all shapes and sizes," Dr. Cross said, slumping down in a thick leather chair next to Dr. Alinafe.

"My God... the things she must see. So vivid, so real."

"Add a good pinch- no a good fistful of guilt for the ones she didn't save," Dr. Cross added, "and things become a whole lot worse. Personal Hell on Earth doesn't even begin to cover it."

The ice in Dr. Alinafe's water clattered as he lifted the glass for another sip. He felt that this was above and beyond anything he'd ever expect to deal with. When the press had asked him what he felt like, he wanted to be brutal in his honesty. If it were up to him, he'd tell them straight up that he felt like a toddler who'd still cling to the coffee table for balance, then out of the blue asked to win the Olympic gold medal in a sport he knew nothing about.

Of course he couldn't say that, the hospital administration wouldn't stand for it. Instead he faked confidence, like so many adults do, and assured the press that they were doing everything they could and that an expert was on the way. Bullshit becomes far more appealing if you wrap it around half truths apparently.

Even a good week later, he had trouble wrapping his head around the absurd contradictions of his situation. Power Girl, who'd tanked shells from tanks and beaten them in hand to hand combat was lying half dead in a bed in his hospital. Dr. Cross had advised against constraining Power Girl, fearing that her cleithrophobia would make matters worse. In a state of panic, she's been known to break free using her heat vision with very little, if any regard to her surroundings.

Moving her to a more secure location was also something Dr. Cross cautioned against. Given that Power Girl was in a medical induced coma, there was little telling just how much she sensed, given her super enhanced senses and all. The small space inside an ambulance, cramped with staff could trigger her cleithrophobia or even her claustrophobia if she overheard staff talking about moving her, never mind the media circus just outside the hospital walls.

"We've speculated that her phobias came from when she grew up inside her space pod," Dr. Cross said, "and any attempts at driving them away with exposure therapy ended in miserable failures."

Edging closer in his seat, Dr. Alinafe said, "Tell me doctor, how did Power Girl get so hurt? It just-"

"-doesn't make sense, I know."

Dr. Cross paced around the room, tapping the file in his hand restlessly, as if weighing his options. Doctors and nurses develop a particular body language, or accent if you will over the course of their careers. Likewise, they also develop a keen eye to spot and track said language. Dr. Alinafe was no different and he saw it almost before Dr. Cross had finished his first step: he knew something and was hesitant to share.

"Doctor," he began, rising from his seat, "I don't need to remind you that her life is on stake. If you know something, please share it."

"I- heh, can't bullshit a bullshitter, huh?"

"No sir, you can't."

"Alright, but if she lives and you breathe a word about this to anyone, ANYONE," Dr. Cross stressed, "we'll both have to answer to HER and not God."

 

* * *

 

Kara sat in a wheel chair when Dr. Cross came in to visit her again first thing in the morning. Sitting might be an overstatement as the 10 day long coma had left her a hollow husk of her former self, leaning heavily on an attached side table for support. Her muscles had shrunk from their former Olympic grade glory to practically nothing and Kara's weight had taken a massive nosedive as well.

The Mistress of Might was long gone and what was left was a broken shell of skin and bones, looking with a dead, glassy gaze out at seemingly nothing. Today was the big day, an important milestone in her recovery. Modern human medicine could only take her so far and Dr. Cross had decided it was time to take a leap of faith, hoping that Kryptonian biotechnology would take care of the rest.

Pulling the heavy curtains aside, a breathtaking view was revealed just beyond the window with the first orange streaks of light starting to creep over the eastern horizon. As the sun climbed higher into the sky, Kara gurgled out a groan in response and fell silent afterwards. Dr. Cross stayed with her throughout the day, as someone had to feed her the liquid diet she was cleared for.

"So you're telling me that Power Girl gets her powers from sunlight?" Dr. Alinafe said, "I mean- if I didn't track her recovery myself, I'd say that's impossible."

"Her body's ability to dramatically repair itself is fueled by sunlight, along with several of her more known powers," Dr. Cross said, luring in another spoonful of clear soup into a detached Kara, "though it still needs raw materials, or nutrients if you will to do the job."

"How can this be? I don't see any reason why this would be a feature or ability that could have come about through natural evolution."

"It's a relic from a long lost age; when the people from Power Girl's world seriously considered crossing the vast darkness that lies between the remote stars."

"Why did they stop? They would be like gods; a few billion people like Power Girl could-"

"I don't know the details," Dr. Cross said, putting the half empty soup bowl aside, "but as I understand it, a cultural revolution happened and their interstellar space program was shut down."

He stood up and used a napkin to wipe Kara's mouth and chin clean, gently holding her head in place with his other hand as he did. Kara's face faintly shifted to a tone of disapproval and a hoarse moan of protest escaped her lips. Dr. Cross stroked her cheek softly with a pair of his fingers to assure her she was in good hands.

"But- with an energy source as abundant as the sun, how did she-"

"-get hurt?" Dr. Cross said, maintaining his slightly annoying habit of finishing people's sentences. "Now to answer that, we'll have to go back 6 months, plus dive into Power Girl's head."

"What does that-" Dr. Alinafe started, before it dawned on him. "Oh..."

September 11th, 2001. The day the world changed and Power Girl was nowhere to be seen. Dr. Cross carried on painting a picture of a woman who got dragged down to an absolute rock bottom while a media circus of biblical proportions would not stand down and kept buzzing around her like a thousand annoying bees.

Guilt ridden, firemen had to drag her out of the ruins as she would not stop digging for survivors even weeks after the rescue efforts had given up all hope of finding anyone alive. Men from the air force took her away, rumor had it that they drove her off in an ambulance, curled up in a foster position while crying 'I'm sorry' over and over again.

"From then on out, I'd recon that she was desperate to make amends," Dr. Cross said, his voice hushed as he looked over at Kara.

"And you think her response to the train crash out at Charlotte's Dale is related?"

Nodding, Dr. Cross said, "She fuels her powers from sunlight, but she can only take in so much at any given time. If she pushes herself too hard, she'll use more energy than she takes in and without energy, she's just a little bit more durable than a human for her size and build."

"Fascinating..." Dr. Alinafe said, biting lightly on his glasses, "So in order to make amends, she's been pushing herself to the edge and eventually she bit over more than she could chew."

 

* * *

 

"Cat. Dog. Train. Lake." Kara said, calling out the motive on each color card that Dr. Cross flipped through.

"Looks like your vision is back to normal, or at the very least up to human levels," he said, putting the cards away, "and your speech is making good progress as well."

"How many Pieter?" Kara said, looking down on her hand as she softly closed and opened it over and over again.

Glancing over at the door to make sure the coast was clear, Dr. Cross said, "Now Kara, we should focus on your rec-"

"How. Many?" she insisted.

"The final toll was 24 dead including 16 children and 168 injured," Dr. Cross said, "Fortunately, the train did not catch fire, and many of the people trapped in the wreckage were later rescued alive."

Hunching over in her wheelchair, Kara began to lightly bang her forehead against her knees while muttering 'dammit, dammit' over and over again. Over the course of several minutes her words lost their pronunciation and melted into a slush of tears and crying.

"Kara, please listen to me," Dr. Cross said, "it's not your fault, okay? You did everything-"

"I couldn't- I didn't-" Kara said, looking up at him with tear wet eyes, "The children Pieter- Why wasn't I fast enough? Why wasn't I strong enough? WHY?!"

Dr. Cross squatted down and hugged Kara's trembling shoulders, pulling her close to him. She kept crying out muffled 'why' into his shoulder, her tears staining his coat. He rocked her gently, shushing and comforting her as he would a child or a dear friend.

"Dr. Alinafe and I went over the numbers Kara," Dr. Cross said, "you've been pushing yourself too hard and were already scraping the bottom of the barrel when you decided to try and stop a freight train at high speed."

Kara fell dead silent and Dr. Cross could feel heat building up on his shoulder. It was too high up to come from Kara's breath, plus it wasn't washing over him in waves like a normal breath would. She pushed herself away from him, holding him at arms-length, her bloodshot eyes glared at him.

“Who’s Dr. Alinafe?”

“He’s a doctor here at the hospital, he treated you before I could get to you,” Dr. Cross explained.

“And you told him?”

“Kara…” he started, seeing how her eye sockets started glowing as if there was a set of powerful lightbulbs behind her eyes, “I had to, please understand. You were dying.”

“YOU TOLD HIM!” Kara’s eyes flashed like an orange blitz from a camera, shoving Dr. Cross away in disgust.

Sprawling around on the floor, Dr. Cross reached for his face with his hands, while Kara found herself stuck between crying and screaming in sheer rage. Everything she touched crumbled and fell apart in her hands, every goddamn thing.

“I trusted you, Pieter!” she cried, her tears angry and her voice hurt, “Why’d you have to do that?! Why now, when- when the whole damn world wants nothing more than my head on a stick?! I HA-”

“Kara!” Dr. Cross snapped, his word came out like the angry roar of a gun.

Stunned, Kara stopped her tantrum dead in its track. Pieter was a lot of things; talented, humble, polite, methodical and professional, but never, ever angry. It’s weird how when you’ve never been angry at anyone or anything before, that when you finally do crack, you have the world’s complete attention.

“Kara, I- I can’t see.”

 

* * *

 

Sitting in the reception area in her wheelchair, Kara looked small and timid as she waited for her pick up to arrive. Several decades worth of doing good deeds all over the world had allowed her to cash in favors in times of need. Her body was still a long way from a complete recovery, they weren’t even sure if she’d ever be fully back to her old self. Too many unknowns they said.

She’d have to go through physical therapy to get her body back on track and she didn’t want to do it here. Too many bad memories already, she’d told them. Taking hold on the wheels of her chair, Kara shuffled over to one of the tables that had a small pile of magazines and newspaper on it.

Flipping through the pages, not really reading as she was looking for the comics, Kara paused mid-flip as if something on the previous page had caught her eye. Seeing a nurse coming up to her, she folded the paper instead and put it away.

“Your car has arrived ma’am,” he said.

Smiling, Kara reached for the wheels again, prompting the nurse to go back around and push her towards the exit. Leaving the wheelchair and getting into the car was a battle in and by itself, even with a nurse and the driver giving her a helping hand. Wounded pride didn’t really make things any better, not by a long stretch.

“Well then,” the driver sighed as he took his seat in the driver’s seat, “we’ll head for the airport, the jet is already standing by and traffic isn’t bad, so yeah.”

“Does this car have a phone in it?” Kara asked.

“Uh… no, I’m afraid not,” the driver replied, “Why’s that? Someone you want to call?”

“A flower shop.”

“Ah, you want to send some thank you flowers to the hospital. Well, in that case you can use my cell phone if you’d like.”

“Thanks.”

As the car drove off, Kara followed her driver’s recommendation for a local flower shop and dialed their number. Resting her head on the window, she listened on as the phone rang and rang before finally someone on the other end picked it up.

“Yes, I’d like to order a bouquet please,” she said, her voice brittle with tears, “It’s- Uhm- it’s for Chifundo Alinafe. Yes, that’s right, the doctor’s wife. Uh-huh- ah- the- the card should read ‘Sorry for your loss.’ Yes, that would be nice. Thank you, bye.”


End file.
